Constance is a concrete angel
by BabyFangirl.xxx
Summary: My first sonfic, Martina McBrides Concrete Angel. describing the Life of young Constance Hardbroom


**_A/N so this is my first SONGFIC! the_** _(slanted words)_ _ **are the song lyrics. to Martina McBride's 'Concrete Angel' Enjoy!**_

 _She walks to school with the lunch she packed  
Nobody knows what she's holding back  
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday  
She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh _

Constance Hardbroom swept slowly through the cold corridors of Weird sister college, small tentative step after small tentative step. The cold wind moaned somberly down the hall, whining at the young witches unfair treatment. Yet, the breeze made the girl shiver, and clutched her arms across her chest. She winced, bringing sharp, hot tears to her chocolate eyes, regretting the decision to ask for the desirable warmth as her fingers met the bruises on her pale arms. The bruises that tainted her flawless porcelain skin trailed up to her shoulders, where the finger print marks were clearly identifiable, then surrounding her neck, black brown, and blue marks, gathering like gulls by the sea, then down her back. The cane strokes were never visible, but they were always there in Constance's mind, each lash, shooting electricity across her skin, to the tips of her fingers, the burning searing pain ever present. She could feel it now as she stalked in the shadows, having been called yet again the she-devils office. The young witch was practically trembling as she wiped her dismal eyes with the back of her sleeve, the anticipation brewing in the pit of her stomach was too much to bear. Her whole body ached, and she couldn't even slip on a fake smile she wore every single day.

 _The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask  
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask  
Bearing the burden of a secret storm  
Sometimes she wishes she was never born _

She had often tried to conceal the marks and often, she succeeded pretty well, until that one day when she had been careless. Mistress Blackcat never opened the windows, nobody knew why, but despite the hot sunny days, they remained shut, and on that day when the classroom actually felt like a sauna, Constance pushed her loose sleeves up over her elbows, not thinking much of it at the time. That was… until she caught Miss Blackcat staring at her, shocked, at confused… concerned. Immediately aware Constance pulled the sleeves over her heavily bruised arms, not meeting the teachers' eyes. She had almost cried then, that somebody saw her so vulnerable, but that was the very first time Miss Blackcat opened the window. Still, for better or for worse the issue had never been addressed. Constance wasn't really a student who got along well with others, limiting her friends… acquaintances, but even those she had a weak bond with, she never told them. Why did anyone need to know of the punishments she received? Mistress Hecketty Broomhead hurt her… often. So what? That was none of their business. It was her problem, her suffering, she didn't need help from anyone. Still, as she would sit alone at Lunch and at break, she had time to sit and dwell on the hardships. Quickly, she would catch the tear that trespassed on her pale cheek, before anyone could notice. Inside, she was being crushed brutally, knowing she couldn't possibly hold on for much longer, before she broke completely. Would it all be so much better if she didn't exist? So much easier if she hadn't been born?

 _Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place  
Where she's loved, concrete angel _

Each morning, she would dress in agony, but looking in the mirror, with her attire hiding every bruise and scar, she looked normal, she looked… pretty, and Constance would smile to herself and hold her head up high. The witch made herself believe she was worth something, maybe not to anybody else, but to her, that was all she needed. Despite Mistress Broomhead steel grip, and all the pain the young witch endured, she stood up, each time, she got back up, determined she would never be beaten down. Yet, she knew she had to go through it all again, and she knew she couldn't take much more… but that didn't stop her trying to be strong. Constance knew she was better than this. She knew there was somebody out there, who one day would love her, show her a kindness that nobody else had ever showed her before. She dreamed than somebody would save her, like they did in Novels, but she knew she'd have to save herself, which made her determined. She would do it, she would rise to great things. She was going to be happy… one day.

 _Somebody cries in the middle of the night  
The neighbors hear but they turn out the light  
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate  
When morning comes it will be too late _

After another night of suffering, more bruises, more cuts, the weak girl cowered under her bed sheets, painfully hugging her knees as the tears stream out of control, she gave in, letting each tear burn as they fell one after another, cascading rapidly down her stained cheeks. Her body shivered in pain, as every little movement ached, sending a jolt of agony shooting through her veins, and she sobs bitterly. The neighboring rooms blow out their candles, they don't want to hear. They all know she's hurt, but they are oblivious as to how, but all they can do is lay in the darkness, pretending not to hear, sincerely hoping whatever it was would never happen to them. Why couldn't she help herself? Constance laid back in her bunk wishing she was free from such a horrid fate, knowing she'd have to repeat it all again tomorrow.

 _Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place  
Where she's loved concrete angel _

"You're going to be okay Constance," the young witch told herself as she slowly lets her head fall on the pillow. Placing her trust in herself, she convinces herself it will all be over soon, she'll leave Weird Sister College and she'll be free… Free. She smiled to herself then, imagining what it would be like, to never have to be afraid again. To never have to beg for mercy, to never have to cry. " You'll be okay," she reassured herself, with her arms still around herself. Like a hug… how much she longed for such comfort, how many times she just wanted somebody to be there, to hold her, comfort her, tell her everything will be alright. One day… she'll be free and she'll be loved.

 _A statue stands in a shaded place  
An angel girl with an upturned face  
A name is written on a polished rock  
A broken heart that the world forgot _

Once, she had been loved. She had been cherished by somebody. But after her mother's death, she'd been left all alone… alone to suffer the nightmare in her school. Every Saturday morning, at the crack of dawn the young witch would visit the graveyard with fresh flowers, lilies were always her mother's favorite. Tucking her dark hair behind her ear, she stood stationary, as tears clouded her eyes, simply staring at the name on the stone, her mother, the only person who loved her dearly. It broke the girls heart knowing she could never have her mother back, she wished beyond anything that she was there to take her in her arms, but of course, It wasn't to be

 _Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place  
Where she's loved concrete angel_

"I'm sorry, Mother. I've got to move on…" wiping a single tear away, Constance stood upright, "It's my life… Not Hecketty's, she can't control me… it's time to fight back." Inhaling deeply, the witch disappeared, there was one solution. She had to run away. She couldn't stay beaten down by Mistress Broomhead any longer. It was time to live, time to be Happy, time to find someone who loved her… for herself, Constance Hardbroom, the concrete angel.


End file.
